


How Very Human

by SolarMorrigan



Series: Solar's 007 Fest 2019 [15]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen, There's no violence really I tagged that as sort of a catch-all, Vomiting, frank mentions of torture, pre-00Q, somewhat graphic depiction of the aftermath of torture/disembowelment, there's comfort though I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 02:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Q had thought he was largely inured to the sounds of torture and suffering ringing in his ears.Maybe he is.But this is nothing like that.





	How Very Human

**Author's Note:**

> Day 15! Angst today! This one fills "Disembowelment" on the [Angst Prompt Table](https://mi6cafe.wordpress.com/007-fest/007-fest-2019-prompt-tables/). It's probably not as bad as the tags make it out to be but I wanted to be careful since this isn't a fic I'd want to stumble into accidentally. But also I'm a wuss
> 
> If anyone sees any glaring errors, please feel free to point them out so I can fix them!

Q has been at MI6 for quite a while – longer than people give him credit for, just taking in his appearance and guessing at his age. He’s been years on the job, and he’s good at it. But not everything goes smoothly; he’s had agents captured on his watch. Over the years, when captors have failed to spot and remove discrete earpieces, he’s heard his agents tortured.

He’s listened to bones break, to flesh sizzle, to electricity snap. He’s heard his agents raped and beaten and sliced open. He’s heard them screaming, screaming, screaming. He’s heard their last breaths gurgle and die in their chests.

He soldiers on. He gets them out or he orders cleanup. He goes to his office sometimes to take a moment to compose himself, but he’d thought he was largely inured to the sounds of torture and suffering ringing in his ears.

Maybe he is.

But this is nothing like that.

It’s the stench that hits Q first. He’s never smelled anything like it, and if he’s very, very lucky, he never will again. He covers his mouth and nose with the edge of his sleeve and swallows back the bile climbing up his throat. That smell can’t mean anything good.

In front of Q, Bond has covered his own mouth and nose, but the stench doesn’t keep him from entering the room. It’s Q’s pride—and his morbid curiosity—that pushes him in after Bond.

He isn’t meant to be in the field. He’s certainly not meant to be in an abandoned factory, searching for a missing agent, but Bond has a way of dragging people into things. Though Q had only been sent along to provide and explain the necessary delicate equipment to finish the job once they’d found out why Agent Hobbes had gone silent two days ago, he found himself tagging along with Bond in the search.

He wishes he hadn’t.

It’s the blood Q notices next. There’s so much of it. He knows, logically, how much blood the human body holds, but this – this is more than he’s ever wanted to consider _outside_ the human body.

Finally, his eyes land on Agent Hobbes. For a moment, his brain rejects the image entirely. It’s _wrong._

What’s left of the man is dangling from a meat hook. His face is frozen in the pain of his last moments in life. His arms are covered in cuts and burns, his chest is bared and has fared the same. His legs are bent in angles they’re not meant to bend in. Most of his toes are missing, but Q only notes that absently because he’s mostly occupied with the long slice across the man’s belly, where his intestines are spilling out and onto the floor.

Q gags.

He retreats from the room to get himself under control. He will absolutely _not_ be sick. He will be professional.

Bond exists the room shortly after Q. He might be paler than before, but it’s hard to tell in the harsh half-light of the broken-down factory.

“No trace of where they went,” Bond reports.

Q nods, swallows, and chances removing his hand from his face. “I’ll order a cleanup when we’re in a more secure location,” he says, proud that his voice is only a little faint.

Bond nods in turn. “There’s nothing else we can do here. We should go.”

“Let’s,” Q says, and hopes very much that he doesn’t sound as desperate to leave as he is.

-/-/-

Back in the hotel room, Q gets in contact with headquarters. He organizes a cleanup and has a trying phone call with M. He then gives up the fight with his gag reflex entirely and bolts to the bathroom to sick up what seems like everything he’s ever eaten.

Every time he thinks he’s quite done, he pictures the length of intestines slopping out from the inside of Hobbes’ body, and is heaving over the toilet again.

He becomes aware of a hand on his back, rubbing small circles. Bond is there. (Or else a very comforting intruder.)

When Q feels like he can safely sit back and away from the toilet bowl, Bond brushes his sweaty fringe off his forehead and offers him some water in one of the cheap plastic hotel cups.

Q rinses his mouth, spits, flushes the toilet again, but feels it would be better if he didn’t put anything back in his stomach at the moment. He can’t quite bring himself to look at Bond, who has taken this entire day in stride – everything from the disemboweled agent to Q’s less than exemplary reaction to it.

“You must think I’m pathetic,” he mutters, staring down at his hands.

“No.” Bond surprises Q with his answer, sits down beside him as best he can in the minimal space of the bathroom. “I think you’re human.”

Q has no idea what to say to that, so he stays silent. Bond wraps and arm around his shoulders, and it doesn’t take much to get Q to lean into Bond’s side, warm and solid and stoic. _Comforting._

“We don’t all have that luxury, Q,” Bond says softly, stroking his thumb against Q’s shoulder. “Hold onto it as long as you can.”

And though at the moment Q’s humanity seems like more of a hinderance than treasure, there’s something raw in Bond’s voice that makes Q listen. He nods, hair mussing even further where his head pushed into the crook of Bond’s shoulder, and lets himself be human for a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posed on [Tumblr](https://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/186308902198/how-very-human-james-bond-gen-or-pre-00q-day) if that's where you like to be


End file.
